


(Not so) Coffee Catastrophe

by PsychoticPerfection13



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne has Feelings, Coffee Meetcute, Coffee Shops, Happy 25th Birthday Stella!!!!!, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 08:33:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12165279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoticPerfection13/pseuds/PsychoticPerfection13
Summary: Clark Kent spills all his coffee in the middle of a crowd.Bruce sees him. He's hot.It plays out exactly how you suspect it will.





	(Not so) Coffee Catastrophe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stella0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stella0/gifts).



> Soooooo.....
> 
> I'm not dead. Just busy. Sometimes I wish school wasn't a thing. XD
> 
> THIS ONE IS OKAY I THINK. I mean I hope it's good, but I did it in about 5 days for my friend Stella's birthday and I didn't look over the end because I was rushing. My time management skills are just terrible. BUT ANYWAYS.
> 
> HAPPY 25TH BIRTHDAY STELLA!!!!! You're one of my best friends <3 and sometimes you're the only thing keeping me sane in this world (along with Pengu and everyone else, but you're an angel still). We get along really well, and you always send me the best fanfictions (both smutty and fluffy) and you're just an absolute sweetheart. That time I lost my journal (full of fanfiction ideas, mind you, so I was freaking out) you were the one to make me happy again and calm down and make me laugh again. You're just an angel, a sweetheart, and you're funny and pretty and caring and I don't even know where to BEGIN. But, I hope this fanfiction is a good start. 
> 
> Cheers of many long years of friendship to come, love. <3

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Yes, yes, I'm aware Lucius."

Bruce was walking through the crowded sidewalks of Metropolis, pushing through the sea of people making their way to work. There was some muffled shouting from over the receiver and Bruce held the phone away from his ear. Someone passing by glared at him. "Yes, yes, I know the whole board of directors is waiting for me and they all have more important things to do than wait on an incompetent billionaire," Bruce replied, rolling his eyes. He heard Lucius' exasperated huff from the other side of the line and mentally patted himself on the back. Lucius hated when he repeated things back to him that he had just said, so he tried to do so as much as possible. "I'm sorry Lucius," Bruce said, feigned sorrow in his voice, "It's just such a lovely day for a walk."

It actually was a beautiful day in Metropolis, the sun rising in the seemingly clear sky and being just cool enough to go without a jacket and still be comfortable. Actually, Metropolis always seemed to have the ideal weather. Everything about Metropolis was almost stupidly flawless, with it's stupid almost futuristic buildings, their stupid pristine offices, the stupid fresh air, and their stupid picture perfect hero. He was really just walking through Metropolis to see if he could get a glimpse of who (or what, Bruce thought grimly) the tabloids and gossip columns were calling "Superman." There had apparently been sightings of him all over Metropolis, and even occasionally in Gotham, to Bruce's displeasure. He had apprehended petty criminals like muggers and thieves, to well known crime bosses and everything in between. He didn't seem to have any weaknesses, but Bruce knew that simply wasn't true. Everyone had their weaknesses, either physical or mental. Everyone had their demons. 

Bruce wasn't even sure he was from this world, if he got his powers from some freak accident on Earth or if he was from a different planet, an alien. "Hero," Alfred had countered, while Bruce just shook his head and continued tinkering with whatever had his attention at the moment. Maybe he could even be Bruce's ally, but there was no way Bruce would team up with him with the way he fought now. Everything about his fighting style was brute force, and not the slightest bit of strategy. 

"Bruce," Lucius said, his voice stern as if he was talking to a misinformed child. He supposed that was what Bruce Wayne was, though. A child who would do nothing but waste his money on lavish pointless things and women if he could. He was sure the other board members were gawking at him, taken aback at the fact that he hadn't addressed him as Mr. Wayne, but Lucius and him had moved past formal introductions ever since Lucius had caught him half naked having sex with another A-Lister on the committee meeting table. 

"The walk from your penthouse in Metropolis to Wayne Enterprises is two hours," Lucius explained, talking slow as if Bruce wouldn't understand him any other way. 

"Mmhmm."

"And you were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. You know, to run your company?"

"Mmhmmmm," Bruce said, drawing it out. He knew exactly how to piss Lucius off, and he was determined to press every last one of his buttons. 

"Listen," Lucius started, voice steely and cold. Bruce groaned and prepped himself for the biggest scolding of life. "First off...."

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Okay, he could do this. He was Superman. He could fly. He could shoot lasers from his eyes. He had super strength. He could carry a few cups of coffee. 

Sometimes he wished having four arms came with his list of superpowers. 

The worse part (worse than literally carrying seven grande cups of coffee) was having to maneuver through early morning rush hour with said coffees. It was no question that Mo's Cafe had the best coffee in Metropolis, which unfortunately meant there was a line out the door just to get one. He had to wait thirty minutes just to get inside the actual store, and when he did, he had to wait another twenty minutes just for the barista to finally get to him.  
He pulled the crumpled up list Perry had given him out of his pocket and read it out to the barista (not begrudging in the slightest), and surprise surprise, they were out of the two percent milk that Perry insisted had to be in his coffee. Of course. At this rate, Perry was going to fire him. He couldn't even order a cup of coffee right. He about had a fit right there in front of the poor woman just trying to do her job. 

He got the coffees (He asked for whole milk in Perry's and was just praying he didn't notice) and squished through the people crowded in the door, nearly spilling the coffee in the process. 

He was making his way back to the Daily Planet when his phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out and a message flickered across the screen. 

you almost here Smallville? I can't start working without my coffee, and if I miss Perry's deadline, it's on you

He was typing out a reply when someone pushed past him, jarring him with their shoulder. His hold on the tray wavered. 

"Oh-jeez-"

And then the tray was tumbling to the ground, along with the coffee, landing with a loud splat on the pavement. 

Well, there goes Cat's non-fat skinny decaf mocha frappuccino with three shots of espresso and two packets of Splenda. 

Clark stuck out his hands to catch the tray and... missed. So much for super reflexes. 

His left foot caught on his ankle as he lunged forward and before he even realized it, he had face planted into the concrete, in the middle of a busy sidewalk in Downtown Metropolis. 

Great. Just great. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bruce couldn't help but laugh. Most Metropolitans were like models, walking down the street with their shoulders squared and head held high as if they owned the whole city. So you could imagine his surprise when he saw one on his hands and knees on the ground, fumbling with an empty coffee cup and apologizing profusely to the people maneuvering around him. 

He was probably an office worker or a reporter, based on how he was dressed, with that hideous pinstriped shirt and those awful khakis. But if you could look past the hideous choice of dress (that wasn't doing anything to hide his ass, mind you), he was actually pretty built. Easy to pass over, yeah, because the clothes frumpled his appearance. 

"Lucius," he said, slowly into the phone, "I'm going to have to call you back."

"What? No! Bruce? Bruce-!"

Bruce was already there by the time he had hung up, extending a hand out to the man on the ground. He put on his best Brucie Wayne smile and cleared his throat. "Hey, that was quite a tumble there," he shook his hand out in front of him, "Need some help?"

The man finally looked up at him and Bruce swallowed. Jesus.

The black, bulky glasses he had on covered most of his face, but Bruce could make the eyes behind them, and they glittered like sapphires. His face was chiseled, but still had a kind of soft, approachable edge to it. 

Fuck. He was hot. 

"Yeah, sure, uh-thanks."

The man accepted his outstretched hand and Bruce pulled him up with some effort. Bruce bent over and picked up the tray lying on the ground for him. 

"Looks like you got lucky," Bruce said, pointing at his face, "You haven't got a scratch on you."

The man eyes widened for a fraction of a second and he looked away. Bruce's breath caught in his throat when the glasses perched on his nose slipped a bit, revealing the deep blue behind them. 

"Well," the man started, taking the tray out of Bruce's hands and pushing his glasses back up nervously. "I'm sorry," he said, clutching the empty cups to his chest, "But I really should be going." He turned around and started to leave when Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, and Clark jumped. Bruce really didn't want him to leave. He was the first person he's ever met who didn't try to automatically try to worm some money out of him. 

That was actually really depressing, now that he thought about it. 

"No, uh, wait. Let me buy you a coffee," He motioned to the cups on his hands, raising an eyebrow, "A few coffees, I suppose. Intern? Assistant?"

"Oh, uh, y-yeah," Clark answered, narrowly avoiding dropping a cup. "Daily Planet."

"Ah, Daily Planet," Bruce said, smiling. "Pretty sure I own that one. I'll give them a call, tell them you'll be coming in a little late. How does that sound?"

"Um, what?"

"Come on."

Bruce held out an arm for him, and Clark eyed him skeptically before hesitantly linking his arm through his. He had used all the money Perry had given him for the coffee, and it would probably be better if he showed up late with coffee than with none at all. And if this guy was offering to pay, who was he to refuse?

"Where are we going?" 

Bruce plucked one of the cups from his arms and twirled it around to read the label on it, then shook it in front of Clark. "Well, Mo's Cafe it seems."

Clark stopped dead in his tracks and Bruce nearly fell forward. "No, no, it's fine. We can go somewhere else." Clark shrugged. "The line at Mo's is going to be around the block by now anyways. You probably have places to be."

Bruce heard the Lucius in his head screaming at him. "Nope. Nowhere to be."

Bruce tugged on Clark's arm and Clark reluctantly fell back into step with him. "Besides, I know the owner. He'll hook us up." He looked at over at Clark, looking him up and down. Clark squirmed when he ran his finger up his arm. "Hopefully in more ways than one."

Clark's cheeks were impossibly red and Bruce smirked at him. "W-What?"

A quiet chime caught Clark's attention and he almost ran into the door that Bruce was trying to open for him. "We're here," Bruce said, pointing at the sign on the door and totally ignoring the fact that he had basically propositioned him for sex. 

Apparently knowing the owner warranted being able to skip to the front of the line and interrupting someone's coffee order. The coffee cups came out probably about ten times quicker than before, and Bruce had held up a hand when Clark had tried to carry the coffee back to their small booth tucked in to the corner of the restaurant. 

"So, I don't think we've been properly introduced yet," Bruce said as they sat down. He held out his hand. "Bruce Wayne."

Clark only hesitated in a second for before he took his hand in exchange. "Clark Kent. Um, aren't you supposed to ask someone their name before you ask them out for coffee?"

Bruce looked at him over the rim of his cup. "I don't usually play by the rules," he said simply, sipping his coffee gingerly. 

He didn't say anything after that, so Clark was left to fidget in his seat not knowing what to do. That had seemed like the only thing he was doing since he moved to Metropolis. 

"So," Clark started, taking a sip of his coffee to calm his jitters, "You said you own the Daily Planet. What does that mean?"

Bruce reached forward and tapped him on the side of the head. "You're pretty, yes, but you're not that bright."

Clark didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended, so he just frowned down at his coffee. "I mean, who are you? If you own the Daily Planet, you must be pretty important, right?"

Bruce leaned forward on his elbows, looking at him half confused and half interest. "You really don't know who I am?" He asked, as if it were the most unbelievable thing in the world. 

"No," Clark replied, absentmindedly stirring his coffee. It was only partially the truth. He didn't know much about him, but he could remember seeing him on the front page of a couple magazines. Mostly scandals. He looked up at Bruce and raised a playful eyebrow at him. "Should I?"

Bruce exaggeratedly flipped his hair and scoffed. He couldn't tell if Clark laughed or not, but his body shook as if he was trying to stifle one. "Well, I am pretty well known around these parts," he said in an inflated western voice. 

Clark did laugh this time, filling Bruce with warmth and it reverberating through the coffee shop. 

"Didn't answer my question," Clark pointed out, eyeing him from his seat. "Besides, I just moved here."

It was probably a bad idea, telling this total stranger where he worked, how long he'd been living here but he seemed trustworthy enough. And he would probably never see him again anyways. 

But he seems nice. Maybe I'd want to see him again. 

"Bruce Wayne? Billionaire, playboy, businessman, and totally on the market." He smirked when Clark started looking at something particularly interesting behind him. "Everyone knows who I am." Clark scoffed. "And you're a reporter?" Bruce asked, but it didn't sound rude, he seemed genuinely curious. 

"Uh, no. Aspiring, actually."

So, Bruce's previous assumption was correct. Bruce leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "You know, I could put in a recommendation for you." He leaned forward and poked Clark in the chest. Jesus, he was basically rock solid. "You got heart, I can tell."

Clark leaned back and considered him for a moment. "You don't even know me," he said a minute later. "Who I am."

What I am. 

"I can tell," Bruce said simply, shrugging. "You're going to be an award winning writer some day or something like that probably."

Clark shuffled his feet under the table. "You think so?"

Bruce tipped the rest of his coffee back. "I know so," he said, which was weird because he wasn't flattering him, he meant it. "You might even win a Pulitzer Prize one day," he said, twirling the now empty cup absentmindedly between his fingers. 

Apparently that was all Clark had to say about that, because he just looked down, smiling at the floor and twiddling his thumbs around his coffee cup. 

Bruce stood up abruptly from his chair, the screeching of the legs causing Clark's head to shoot up. He grabbed the trash off the table, ignoring Clark's protests of "I can do it, you bought it, it's the least I can do..." He held out a hand for him. "Well, as much as I'd like to keep you with me all day," Bruce said, looking like he was considering actually getting the day off for him, "I think we have some coffee to deliver."

Clark tried to hide his smile as he took Bruce's hand. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bruce was still standing in front of the Daily Planet office, the dopiest smile plastered on his face that would make even Alfred laugh. He could still feel the ghost of Clark's lips on his cheek where Clark had pecked him before scurrying back into the building. 

Maybe Metropolis wasn't so stupid after all. 

He twisted the card in his hand between his fingers, the silver lettering gleaming up at him. 

"Clark Kent, Daily Planet," it read simply. He smiled down at the numbers scribbled along the bottom with a blue pen, with an added "xoxo" at the end. He slipped it back into his pocket and pulled his phone out instead, quickly dialing in a number. 

"Lucius," he said, making his way in the direction of Wayne Tower, "You will not believe what just happened to me."

 

~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
